The One Thing Neal Isn't Good At
by DjDangerLove
Summary: Peter and Neal find something that Neal isn't good at. One-shot! Neal whump as usual! No Slash!


It was eight am on a Saturday morning and Neal Caffrey was not thrilled about being called into work. No, not work. Work was with the FBI, either in the office or somewhere in New York City. Work wasn't here. No, work was any place other than here. Work was not at Peter Burke's house. But yet, Peter called him into work.

"Peter, why am I at your house, especially at eight in the morning?" Neal grumbled as Peter opened the door to let him in.

"Well, Good Morning to you too, Neal, and it is because we have work to do." Peter smiled back, all too happy for how early it was.

"Yes, you mentioned that. But WHY are we HERE and not the OFFICE?" Neal asked putting emphasis on the keywords in his question. Neal sat down on the couch and rubbed at his eyes, as if he could rub away all the exhaustion from his body. He glanced up at Peter who was not wearing his usual bland suit.

"And why are you dressed like that?" Neal asked referring to Peter's worn out t-shirt and shorts.

"Because the work we are going to do today requires this kind of attire, Neal." Peter stated with a smirk.

Neal looked quizzically at the agent. Peter laughed and walked up stairs. Neal just rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed and exhausted sigh as he fell back onto the couch cushions behind him. He was on the brink of being completely asleep when something soft landed on him and Peter's voice rang through his ears.

"Uh-uh! No sleeping Neal. Now go change. We have work to do." Neal slowly opened his eyes and sat up. He picked up what Peter had dropped in his lap and looked at it disgustingly.

"Ugh! Peter! There is no way I'm wearing this!" Neal stated holding up the ratted t-shirt and shorts by his fingertips, not even bothering to touch the sneakers. Peter rolled his eyes.

"Fine, but don't complain to me when you get paint or dirt on your fancy suit." Peter said as he stood over Neal.

"Ok- wait what? Paint? Dirt? What exactly is it we are doing again?" Neal asked confused for the millionth time that day.

"The outside of the house out back needs to be touched up with paint and some more handyman work needs to be done. I promised Elizabeth we would take care of it while she's away at her sister's house for the weekend." Peter smiled when Neal's jaw dropped.

"Peter! This is your house. Not mine. So you are the one that has to do it. Not me. Nowhere in this deal, does it say that I have to do your slave work." Neal said as he stood and walked towards the door.

"I'd hate to have to tell Elizabeth, who feeds you most nights and goes out of her way to cook things you will actually eat, that you wouldn't help fix up her house. But I guess she won't be too disappointed." Peter said, trying to sound sad. He did his best to hide his smirk when Neal let go of the door knob and let out a loud sigh.

Neal turned and glared at Peter. "I'm only doing this for Elizabeth." He said as he trudged over to the couch and picked up the ratty clothes Peter had given him earlier. He walked slowly upstairs and into the bathroom to change.

Peter went into the kitchen to pour two cups of coffee. He couldn't help but smile when Neal walked in.

"Oh, those suit you so well." Peter joked and laughed when Neal glared at him for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. Peter couldn't help but notice how much smaller Neal looked in shorts and a t-shirt. Of course they weren't exactly his size, but still the kid looked skinnier to the agent.

"Whatever." Neal said as he grabbed up a cup of coffee and drunk the whole thing in two large gulps.

"Well, let's get this over with Mr. Handyman." Neal said as he walked outside to the back yard.

"Okay. Do you want to paint or fix the dog house?" Peter asked Neal who was standing beside him, looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Right. Dumb question. Just don't go painting any pictures or designs on my house, or you will be back in prison before you can fall off that ladder!" Peter warned while glaring at the younger man. Neal gave him a smirk and began to grab the paintbrush and paint and make his way up the ladder.

Peter and Neal had been working for twenty minutes. Neal was making great progress, but Peter was going a little slower because he kept glancing over at Neal, making sure he wasn't painting anything he wasn't supposed to.

Neal turned around to see what Peter was doing and smiled when he saw the agent half way in the dog house. Neal had been getting bored and thought that a little excitement couldn't hurt. Quietly he made his way down the ladder, making sure the agent wasn't watching him. When he got to the second step off the ground, he took one last look at Peter to make sure he wasn't looking, and threw his paint can and paintbrush as hard as he could on the ground to make a loud noise and he laid sprawled out on the ground on his back with his eyes closed.

_Wait for it….wait for it…_"Neal?"….._There! _Neal tried his best not to laugh.

"Neal? Are you okay?" Peter yelled as he fell to his knees beside the younger man. Peter grasped Neal's shoulder.

Neal was trying so hard not to give his joke up, but when Peter grabbed his shoulder he couldn't hold it in anymore. He opened his eyes and looked up at Peter and smiled. "Gotcha!" Neal yelled and jumped up off the ground and started laughing hysterically.

"Jesus Christ, Neal! You scared me half to death!" Peter yelled angrily.

"Oh! … Peter! You should have seen your face!" Neal said while he was laughing uncontrollably. "Neal? Neal? Are you okay?" Neal mocked and grabbed his sides while he laughed even more.

Peter was not amused. He really thought Neal had been seriously hurt. But instead of bickering or scolding the younger man who right now was acting like a five year old in Peter's opinion, he quickly ordered him to finish fixing the dog house and then ignored him completely.

Neal's laughter quickly died off after Peter's reaction. Sure he expected him to be a little angry but he expected him to laugh afterwards. Not this. He shrugged, knowing Peter would get over it by lunch, and made his way over to the dog house. He turned his head to look at Peter, which prevented him from seeing the large tree branch laying in the yard. His foot got caught and Neal went down, smacking his head on the roof of the dog house, hard. Neal laid on the ground in a daze for a few seconds. At first he felt nothing, but when he turned his head to the side, he felt a wave of severe pain in his temple. He couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips, but it wasn't loud enough for Peter to hear. He sat up slowly. He touched his right hand to his right temple, and retracted it quickly. His hand was covered in blood. He felt the red, sticky liquid running down the side of his face but made no move to stop it. He felt really sleepy all of a sudden, and slowly came to the realization that he had a concussion. He knew he had to get Peter's attention.

"Peter!"

Peter heard Neal yell at him, but he was too angry to hear the pain or the slight slur of Neal's voice. He didn't turn around. Neal was going to learn his lesson.

"Peter!" Neal yelled again. Peter rolled his eyes but didn't turn around.

"Peter! My head!" Neal yelled desperately.

"I'm not falling for it Neal!" Peter yelled back.

"P'ter…" Neal tried to yell again, but he was getting really sleepy.

Peter turned around to yell at Neal to shut up, but stopped short when he saw the younger man. Neal was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him with red liquid running down his face. Realizing there was no red paint, he came to the conclusion that it was in fact Neal's blood. He got off the ladder as fast as he could and ran over to Neal.

"God, Neal! What happened?" Peter asked removing Neal's hand and touching his friend's head with his own. He winced, not because he was in pain, but how much pain his partner was in. _He's going to need stitches. He won't like that._ Peter thought to himself. He picked up a rag laying in the yard that was used to wipe up excess paint and held against Neal's temple.

"I…..tripped…hit my head on the….dog….house." Neal replied in a strange tone of voice. He closed his eyes as exhaustion took over.

"Oh no! You aren't falling asleep! Not with a concussion. Come on! We gotta get you to the hospital, kid." Peter said as he stood pulling Neal with him. Neal swayed and Peter placed the younger man's arm around his own neck. Carrying most of Neal's weight, they finally made it to the car. Peter sat Neal down in the passenger seat and told Neal to hold the rag tightly against his temple.

Neal leaned his head against the headrest and began to fall asleep until Peter started talking.

"Hey! Talk to me Neal." Peter said as he drove down the road toward the nearest hospital.

" `bout wha?" Neal slurred.

"Anything! Just don't stop talking." Peter didn't mean for Neal to continuously talk, but apparently a concussed Neal Caffrey took everything literally.

"I hate your driving. I should get to drive. Maybe help us live longer…I was in a car accident once….twice…wasn't my fault." Neal slurred. Peter wanted to know more about the car accidents Neal said he was in but didn't get the chance to ask because Neal kept talking. Ten minutes and one hundred fun, yet not incriminating facts about Neal Caffrey later, they arrived at the hospital.

Peter helped Neal walk into the ER, which thankfully was not packed. Neal was still mumbling incoherent things, that no one could hear. They were greeted by a young nurse.

"My friend busted his head open. He has a concussion." Peter stated getting straight to the point. Neal was getting heavy considering most of his weight was held up by the agent.

Another nurse walked up and took hold of Neal on his other side.

"Okay, we will get him fixed right up." She said and maneuvered Neal off of Peter. The two nurses lead Neal down the hallway and into a room.

It wasn't three minutes later until the nurse that hadn't greeted them came out into the waiting room.

"Excuse me….are you Peter?" She asked

"Yes." Peter answered standing up.

"Could you come back here with your friend? He isn't taking the idea of getting stitches very well. Being concussed doesn't help matters either." She stated and turned to lead the way when Peter nodded.

Peter walked into the hospital room to find Neal Caffrey sitting up on the bed with his legs dangling over the side. He walked up to him and could hear the younger man still mumbling. He laid a hand on Neal's shoulder.

"Neal, you can stop talking." He said. Neal jumped and quickly turned his head to look at Peter, then winced at the movement. But soon he was looking wide-eyed at Peter and smiling at him.

"Hiya Peter!" Neal said too loudly for the small room they were in.

"Oh, I forgot to mention that we gave him some morphine for the pain." The nurse laughed. "I'll be right back with those stitches and you boys can be on your way." She said as she walked out of the room.

Neal was staring at Peter with a look of horror.

"Peter! I- I don't need stitches! I'm fine! See?" Neal said as he jumped off the bed. But He found himself falling over until Peter caught him under the arms and heaved him back up onto the bed.

"Oh, yeah! You are just peachy." Peter said as he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Peter! Come here!" Neal said to the agent who was standing right in front of him.

"Neal, I'm already here." Peter said as he smirked at the concussed man before him. Although the conman was hurt, he found this whole situation humorous.

"Closer. I've got to tell you a secret." Neal whispered and held his index finger up moving it in such a way to motion for Peter to come closer. Peter took one step closer but no more. Neal leaned forward and whispered to Peter.

"I can get us out of here." Neal sat back with a proud grin on his face. Peter smiled back.

"I'm sure you could, but we don't want to leave just yet, Buddy." Peter replied as if talking to a small child. Neal scrunched his face in confusion.

"We don't? Why?"

"Because the doctor hasn't patched you up yet." Peter replied turning his head toward the door as it opened. The doctor walked in and smiled. "Alright. Let's get you stitched up and out of here, huh?"

Peter moved over to stand by Neal on his left. He felt Neal lean into him, but didn't move away. He looked at the doctor and caught her attention. _He's a little scared._ Peter mouthed. The doctor nodded.

"Neal? Hey, is it okay if your friend sits up here next to you while I stitch you up?" She asked softly. Neal waited a moment before nodding his head slowly. Peter sat up on the bed his shoulder touching Neal's.

The doctor set her stuff out on a small table and grabbed a cotton pad and dabbed it with alcohol.

"Alright, Neal, I need you to lay your head on Peter's shoulder for me." Peter looked up at the doctor with wide eyes. He did not like where this was going. This was going to be an uncomfortable moment that Peter tried so very hard to avoid. The doctor looked at him with a pointed look and Peter gave up. Neal slowly let his head fall onto Peter's shoulder.

"This will sting a little." Peter felt Neal tense and couldn't resist the urge to put and arm around Neal.

The doctor cleaned the wound and began stitching. The morphine the nurse had given Neal worked for the most part, but on the first three stitches Neal let out a small whimper and Peter tightened his arm around Neal.

Fifteen minutes and seventeen stitches later, Neal was being released. He was supposed to take it easy for the rest of the weekend and not go to sleep for another hour.

Peter was sitting in his chair watching the game, with the volume turned down really low, so it wouldn't disturb Neal. The younger man was sleeping peacefully on the couch, but when Peter looked over at him he noticed Neal shiver. He stood up and grabbed a blanket from the back the couch. He draped it over the conman and smiled when the younger man moved to a more comfortable position but still remained asleep. He turned to sit back down but was stopped by a small voice.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Peter." Neal mumbled. Peter turned around to find Neal looking at him through tired eyes.

"It is okay, Buddy. Just next time Elizabeth wants handyman work done, I'm calling a professional." Peter said. Neal turned his head to the side so his stitches could be seen by Peter and closed his eyes. Peter walked away to call Elizabeth and smiled when he heard Neal say, "At least we found something I'm not good at."

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**AN: A very random one-shot! ha Let me know if you liked it or hated it! Oh and by the way! The Summer Finale... oh my God! There just isn't the right words to describe how truly amazing it was! :D :D :D :D 3 3**


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